Chapter 69

ROSALIND

Hours after returning to the Montesano mansion, I'm still on a high from my departure with Miranda. Cesare didn't even have to tell her to give me a hug. She did it all on her own, even though it was brief. The last time she looked at me without resentment or recoiling was before I shot Mom.

That connection, that moment of love, was more effective than Cesare's attempts to tether me to his world.

I watch him from one of the leather armchairs in his black-and-white bedroom. He's standing at the window overlooking the garden, scowling down at his phone. His muscles strain against the fabric of his fitted black shirt, a clear sign of his tension.

His phone has been blowing up with messages since we stepped off the plane. It isn't business, because he hasn't texted back or returned the calls. From the way his features shutter with suppressed rage, I would guess the sender is a former girlfriend.

None of this is my concern, but I can't help but wonder what kind of woman is capable of crawling so deeply under his skin.

"Why won't the Moirai just accept Roman's cash offer?" he asks for the second time.

I take a sip of my water and sigh. "Would you hire a firm of assassins known to accept bribes?"

He scowls but doesn't answer.

"Most of our targets are men and women too powerful for the average criminal to kill without consequences."

"And?"

"In this world, power equals money. If a target can offer us twice what the client paid, then doing business with the Moirai becomes a risk."

He grunts. "They only give half a shit about the hostages."

"If you're saying that because of the ceasefire, you're wrong."

"What's that all about?"

"They only agreed to stop attacking because they're buying time for the next graduation run."

"What does that mean?" He sinks into the arm of my chair and drapes his arm around my shoulder.

"My boss is in charge of the Montesano mission, and he's lost all his key assassins. All the other teams are busy with their own jobs, so he'll have to wait for new recruits."

At his blank look, I set down my glass and explain how the Moirai works. It's something I didn't completely figure out until recently because its practices are shrouded in secrecy and deceit.

"Everyone directly involved with the killing is either an analyst or assassin."

He threads his fingers through my hair. "Got it."

"The Moirai don't take on recruits from the outside world. They recruit runaways and scout potentials from boarding schools outside New Alderney and then take them out of their classes for specialized training."

Cesare scowls. "Let me get this straight. They pluck kids out of schools?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. They target kids whose parents don't invite them back for breaks because they're the ones who won't be missed."

He slides his fingers out of my hair and strokes my neck. "That's how you joined?"

"Yes." My voice thickens. "But that's not the point. Gunther has a manpower problem that can only be solved after the next round of eighteen-year-olds graduate."

"And when is that?"

"Depending on how many assassins get promoted overseas, the last Friday of the quarter. And promotions are euphemisms for dying or getting lost on the job."

He stares at my profile for several moments until my skin burns. I sit still, endure his scrutiny, and ready myself to deflect the inevitable question.

"How could your mother not notice you weren't at school?"

"We have a tiny window to take down the Moirai at its weakest," I say, my voice tightening. "Now isn't the time to dredge up ancient history."

He cradles the back of my head and leans close, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "You're deflecting, pet."

"Leave it." I rise off the seat and walk to the window and stare out across the lawn.

At this time of the afternoon, the setting sun casts long shadows across the manicured lawn. Gardeners tend to the flowerbeds with holsters attached to their overalls. I focus on the workers to take my mind off the past. When that doesn't work, I shift my attention to the stone pathway leading to the swimming pool.

The limestone building is bathed in an orange light that gives it an illusion of warmth. It seems like a lifetime ago since Cesare brought me there for a one-night stand. Beyond the limestone columns and floor-to-ceiling windows are signs of movement. I wonder what they did to the pool house after they moved Cesare's BDSM furniture to the basement.

"Have you ever spoken to anyone about what happened?" His deep voice intrudes on my musings, making my shoulders stiffen.

"Britt knows," I reply. "And we fixed it."

Cesare growls. "That's not what I mean."

"That subject is off limits," I say through clenched teeth.

He rises off the armchair and appears behind me, his body heat warming my back. "You need to talk about it to someone, pet."

"Perhaps, but that person isn't you." I turn around and meet his harsh blue eyes. "I could never open up to the man who held me captive for days and forced me to endure all kinds of torture for his amusement."

His features pinch, but he doesn't speak, because he knows it's the truth. Every time I tried to negotiate, he laughed. He continues staring, his gaze boring into mine, silently urging me to continue.

"I sure as hell won't share the details of my past with a man who will use my trauma as ammunition, because that's what you did each time you took Miranda and waved that knowledge like a red flag."

"She was always safe."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be different with her when all I'd ever seen of you was sadism?"

He glances away, finally seeming to understand. "I told you I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you did." I walk around him and settle back into the armchair. "But trust isn't something that can be bought."

I open a laptop and stare at its screen, trying to create some distance. Cesare seems to think what we did in bed last night was some kind of breakthrough. But very little has changed. I'm still his captive. He still calls me his pet. The only difference is that I've agreed to help him defeat the assassins.

"Back to the subject at hand," I say, my voice sharp. "The Moirai only agreed to the ceasefire because they've run out of manpower to complete the Montesano job."

"So they're just buying time before their new recruits are ready to replace the hostage?" he asks.

"That's right."

"How do we stop the graduation?"

I raise my head and stare up at him with a frown, he looks back, his gaze earnest. "We don't. All the leaders will be at the headquarters, observing the new recruits in a room full of screens, while everyone lower down in the ranks will be supervising graduation. That's the perfect time to attack."

"Where's the HQ?" he asks.

"There's no point in telling you because it's deep underground and protected by advanced security. We're going to send a Trojan horse."

"Okay, and how's that going to work?"

"Call the Moirai and offer to send back the hostages in exchange for a longer ceasefire. They're going to send a small team to collect them and maybe even take that opportunity to complete the mission."

He scowls. "What part of that is Trojan?"

"Put sacks over your men's upper bodies and send them to the Moirai instead."

"That won't get them past the security."

"No need." I close the laptop. "Your men will take the people sent to collect them by surprise and add them to your group of hostages."

His eyes widen. "That's..."

"Brilliant?" The corner of my lips lift into a smile.

"Fuck." He punches his palm and races to the door. "Let's do this."

Smiling, I rise off the armchair and walk across the room. Gunther is relying on recruiting what's left of his team to replace the hostages, but he's about to lose much more.

If everything goes right, then it won't just be me who is free from the Moirai, but every young person they're about to corrupt.

As I reach the door, it swings shut. I grab the knob, but he's already turning the lock.

"Cesare," I snarl.

"Leave it with me, pet," he says from the other side of the door. "I'll be back later with the results."

I slam my fist on the wood, my molars grinding hard enough to crack the enamel. No matter how many times this bastard tries to be nice, he's still my captor.

Fuck Cesare.

The moment we take down the Moirai, he's screwed.